


pale runs the ghost

by NyxKvistad



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne Loves Dick Grayson, Bruce and Dick are good dads, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Domestic Batfamily (DCU), Fluff and Smut, Ghosts, Happy Bruce Wayne, M/M, Martha Wayne is a Good Mother-in-Law, Romani Dick Grayson, Talking To Dead People, Wedding Rings, this is very domestic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxKvistad/pseuds/NyxKvistad
Summary: All is going well with the planning of the wedding but the little normalcy that exists in Dick's life is suddenly interrupted when he discovers he can talk to ghosts. The ghost of Martha Wayne, who has been eager to talk to her future son-in-law, won't lose this opportunity to chat and play some tricks on him.Batfam Halloween Week, day 3: Ghosts
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Martha Wayne, Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 1
Kudos: 62
Collections: Batfam Halloween Week





	pale runs the ghost

**Author's Note:**

> [x] This was supposed to be a one-shot and have less batfamily content but I don't make the rules. Once again, the characters took over. So here it is the life of Bruce and Dick as gay dads. Don't mind Dick, he lives in denial, calling the kids his "brothers."

Life has been a rollercoaster for Dick. Without a doubt, he hasn’t met normality once in twenty-five years of existence.

Dick loves his parents and his Circus’ family, there is no memory he would erase or change. He holds all the memories dearly in his heart, he keeps them safe and protected, truly. Nonetheless, not even the effect of his pink glasses change the fact that his childhood was unconventional. He used to play with elephants and feed lions, he trained in the arts of magic and acrobatics. And his people––his circus people––they were fantastic, each one of them was made of stardust that shined as neon lights, painting the world––his world––with the colours of the rainbow.

And when the audience went home and the lights went off, when there was no more music and applauses, when there was nothing but the silence of the night and the warmth of everyone gathering together to say good night, that was when things got even less conventional. They talked about the stars and the blueprint drawn on everyone’s hand, and if the night was quiet, the spirits of the dead would come and the gifted ones channelled their messages to the expectant ears waiting.

It’s not a secret but he doesn’t talk about it with anyone either. At first, the reason was that he didn’t trust anyone to talk about his past––the interactions he had with the kids in juvie often ended with Dick as a punching bag––and when Bruce took him in, Bruce seemed a difficult man to approach. Bruce had a cloudy aura surrounding him that made him unreachable for a conflicted, yet cheerful kid like Dick. These days, he doesn’t want to feed the stereotypes that preceded his roots. Sometimes it feels as if silence is a far noble manner to honour his past than talking about it would be.

Dick doesn't think he's good at communicating with spirits neither to read hands but he is good at identifying if a place is haunted or not. And if there’s something he did learn is that any place can be haunted by the energy of the memories that his past habitants left there. As if the lingering memory of what it was stays trapped in four walls, waiting for someone sensitive enough to see it and set it free from its pain.

If Dick were one of the gifted ones, he would have tried since the first day he put a foot in the Manor. There is something––someone, maybe even more than one spirit––hiding there in the shadows, living an alternate life as they are watching the living live carelessly, mindless of what is just around the corner if they care enough to see.

Nobody believes him, despite all the signs Dick considers obvious, such as the echo sounds without source, the haunting shadows and blinking lights, the things that go missing and the doors closing with no human force pulling them. It appears that Dick is living with blind people. No matter how many occurrences Dick has witnessed, Bruce doesn’t see it at all and Alfred stares at him incredulous when Dick talks about inexplicable things happening under the butler watch. Sometimes Jason entertains his ideas as Damian and Tim join––and what a strange union that is!––to judge him with and contradict his _fantasies_ with facts and science.

With that in mind, Dick has concluded that no one takes him seriously, which it’s the reason why he keeps his opinion to himself when they visit the gravestones of Bruce’s parents. He doesn’t ask Bruce if he has ever contemplated the idea to confer with a medium. And if a mysterious rose appears on his mother’s grave, Dick accepts Bruce’s explanation that an old friend must have come by and left a gift. Whatever Bruce wants to tell himself, Dick keeps silence out of respect but he is not buying his explanations.

It doesn’t matter anyway. They are here in the cemetery to tell Bruce’s parents that they are engaged. Classic habits of folks who have lost their parents, sorrow can drive one to develop quite the skills to talk to gravestones and old photographs.

And when it’s time to leave, Dick doesn’t say anything, not even when he hears the crisp of a leaf as if someone--who is behind him--had taken a step. He struggles in silence, sure that if he says something concerning the fading shadow, passing by the trees, he would bring trouble to himself.

It bothers him that he knows that the ghosts are here and everywhere he goes, surrounding him and trying to talk to him but he can't see and hear them as clearly as he wishes. Of course, that’s another thing Dick doesn’t say. If he starts talking nonsense before the wedding, he might have to marry him in an asylum, drugged in a high dose of antipsychotics. And that’s not how he wants his dream wedding to be.

Dick thinks he is doing a good job keeping his composure on the ride back home, but maybe he doesn't as Bruce notices something is off with him. "Is something bothering you?" Bruce kisses his hair and pulls him closer.

"Maybe," Dick melts in the warmth of Bruce’s embrace as he locks his arms around Bruce's neck. "Nothing important," Dick says as he kisses him deeply. Kissing is good, it's something he can do without overthinking and spilling all his worries.

"If it bothers you, then it's important," Bruce insists by breaking the kiss.

"It's not," Dick says before losing himself again on the taste of Bruce's mouth. They don’t have to talk, they can kiss all the way to the Manor.  
  


* * *

  
At nights, the lack of external noise meets with Dick's loud head. There are so many doubts swimming in the depths of his brain, connecting each fearful thought through the synapses of his neurons in a wrecking dance of series circuits. It's all white noise driving him insane with all the things he cannot control.

Eventually, he decides that at least, he has to ease one of his many doubts. It might help him sleep a little better.

"Bruce," Dick calls for his partner, who is otherwise inattentive of his presence.

Hypnotized on his task, Bruce merely hums as an answer. God forgive him if he misses a pattern of the code he's been trying to hack for days.

Dick gets closer and peeps his head over Bruce's shoulder, careful to not startle him. "Bruce, I have a question."

"Me too," Bruce replies mindlessly. Neither of them is talking about the same thing.

"It's not about the code, it's about your parents," and that's sufficient intriguing for Bruce to turn half of his attention to his acrobat partner.

"What about my parents? What do they have to do with the code?" No, Bruce isn't with him yet.

"Unless they were involved with drug trafficking, nothing," Dick shrugs his shoulders.

And that's when Bruce finally pays full attention to Dick. "What is your question?" Bruce arcs an eyebrow and stares intently at him. The intensity of Bruce's gaze is no joke, even Dick thinks it can be too much to take.

"Do you think that they would have liked me? Like me as in approve of me to marry you?" Dick crosses his arms, waiting for an answer Bruce can’t give him, no one can answer for real. Both of their parents are dead, the approval they get is funded by whatever perception they remember of them.

The features of Bruce’s face relax and turn into something soft, half of a tight smile is drawn by his lips but Dick grimaces his facial expression. He doesn’t want pity. Dick just wants––he doesn’t know what he wants beyond a hypothetical reassurance that he is worthy to be Bruce’s husband.

“I think they would have wished for me to be happy,” Bruce says but it doesn’t convince Dick, who tilts his head to the right, unimpressed expression printed on his face. Bruce opens his mouth to tell something and then closes it again in hesitation.

"I guess that’s what all parents want for their children," the intention of Dick’s words is to fill the pressing silence. He doesn’t believe all parents want the best for their kids, they don’t. Slade didn’t want the best for Jericho, David Cain didn’t want the best for Cassandra and the Dick is sure the Drakes can’t do something good for Tim even to save their lives.

Bruce cups his face, "you make me happy," and he smiles fondly with a vulnerability that only Dick gets to see. "Is something wrong?" There is worry behind his words but Dick turns away his face to the other side, leaving Bruce’s hand empty. What if there is something wrong? And what if what it is wrong is all about him?

"The grumpy role is already taken by me, remember?" and well, that’s the closest thing Bruce gets to say a joke and Dick laughs anyway, because that what he does, he laughs at his bad jokes and has his back in whatever dangerous mission the Bat decides to take.

Dick’s arms stayed crossed and two calculated steps put a distance among them. It’s the intention to keep himself together. "I guess my fears haven’t changed that much since the last time I met Scarecrow." Dick meets Bruce’s gaze, more guarded than usual. The understanding of Bruce’s eyes soothes Dick inside that he feels on the verge of crying, he wants to run and hide all the feelings that his face show without Dick’s permission.

Dick glimpses at the stairs but Bruce touches his arm and Dick thinks it’s not fair that it’s this simple for Bruce to break his walls down. "You are enough," the words are delivered into his ear, so close, so intimate, "You’ve always been enough, _Robin_.” Dick would like to equally kiss him or punch him, it’s hard to choose. That’s it, that’s the thing that keeps him awake at night, the same thing that trouble his young mind growing up.

_Am I enough? Will I ever be enough for him? For Batman? For Bruce? Is it enough that all I do is for you? Is it enough that I would die for you?_

It’s Robin who has a hard time believe Batman’s words. Nightwing pretends he doesn’t care for Batman’s opinion and at least, he can sleep sound and safe. And Dick believes in this love when Bruce holds him, he believes every word Bruce says, he believes that they are going to make this thing work. But Robin doesn’t and Robin is the loudest of all of them.

Bruce gets it––he owes it to Robin––because it’s all Batman’s fault that Robin trembles in fear when Bruce is unavailable, denying Robin of his attention, his presence, just like _him_.

"What do you need?" Bruce grasps his waist, grounding him by the touch of something solid. "Tell me what you need, anything," Bruce kisses his ear softly––it’s all gentle, the way he’s holding him, the way he brushes his lips against his sensitive skin, the way he speaks smoothing his fears away. Dick, no, Robin, maybe both, they give in. "Hold me, touch me," Dick leans towards Bruce and rests his head on the crook of his shoulder, "keep me close."

Sometimes this is all that Dick wants, to be touched--platonic and softly--just to feel the warmth and touch of another skin. It's comforting, it reminds him how it feels to be alive. He rips all the benefits with Bruce by his side, who slowly undresses him, taking his time to stroke every inch of naked skin. He feels the fingertips of Bruce's hands drawing small circles on his back--wrecked with a myriad of scars--but Bruce doesn't withdraw his touch in disgust. Instead, Bruce has a habit of calling them "fascinating," and Dick listens to him even when most days it's hard to believe that his back doesn't look like a nightmare.

"Beautiful," he hears Bruce says as he goes down from his clavicle to his hips, leaving a trail of kisses and tasting his scars. Dick blushes under the attention, his face feels impossible warm but he's not hard yet, not until Bruce massages his ass with both hands. "I will come if you keep doing that," Dick warns as he doesn't know where this is going, for all he knows, Bruce is busy and he still would like to keep doing his tasks.

"That's the whole point," Bruce smirks smugly and unzips Dick's pants, "let me do all the work," Dick nods with eagerness. He's not going to deny himself the pleasure of sitting on Bruce's lap as Bruce strokes his cock with short and fast rhythm. "I'm not gonna last," Dick gasps as Bruce's spare hand squeezes tight his ass, making Dick convulse in the pleasure building on his groin. The hot pressure escalates as Dick bucks into Bruce's palm, "ah, Bru-ah," Dick has nothing left to say when his orgasm hits him, closing his eyes and falling on Bruce' embrace.

Dick doesn't count the time but he thinks he loses ten minutes of time in the post-bliss. What he knows is that the couch in which he wakes up is soft and good. "Better?" Bruce asks and what can Dick say? He feels better for sure, and Bruce has already cleaned him, so his bright, big smile comes naturally as he says "all good, thanks, B." Dick pats Bruce's shoulder, zipping his pants and ready to go, however, Bruce stops him from leaving. "Actually... I would like your opinion on the code."

"Oh," Dick sighs, "do you need it now?" Bruce stares at him almost offended as if Dick doesn't get it, but he does. He is--was--Robin and Robin always understands. "Sure, let's see what you got there."

* * *

  
The footsteps Dick hears in the middle of the day, pacing outside his childhood bedroom––the one that offers him the privacy he sometimes craves––does nothing but stressed him out.

To be honest, he is stressed because he thought it has been Tim, trying to make a choice: "to knock or not knock?" For Dick, there is no doubt that the only possibility of his pool of choices is Tim. Jason doesn’t wait or hesitate in such minor things, Damian thinks––and he does––that he owns the Manor so he doesn’t knock. Bruce wouldn’t knock, he doesn’t have to, so here he is, sitting in front of Tim, trying to make him confess why he is looking for him.

"So are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?"

"I already told you everything! I got a few interesting classes, my college roommate is nice and I just got my library card. You know how the rest goes with the Titans and Kon," Tim continues reading his paper but Dick isn’t convinced yet.

"Then why do I feel you are hiding something? Are you and Kon fighting?"

"Do you really want to hear about relationship drama? Don’t you have enough drama with Bruce to write a play worth winning a Pulitzer?" Tim says a little too harsh but Dick finds it funny and laughs lightheartedly.

"He is who he is, a good material for a _Hamlet_ sequel," Dick gets Tim to smile and he can’t help but notice that Tim doesn’t smile as often as he did before leaving for college. Dick assumes it's a case of homesickness and handling too many responsibilities at the same time. He sympathizes, he quit college to focus all his energy on the Titans and he never looked back. "If you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine, you are entitled to your private life and keep secrets but if you ever need someone to talk, even if it’s in the middle of the night... call me."

"Thanks, Dick but it’s nothing new, just the tragic thoughts of the impediment dead of my organic body, that feels wretched and weak compared to the other Titans--who are metas and aliens--as you know, nothing new. I am just another ex-Robin missing the old days of youth," Tim waves his hand as if dismissing the relevance of his issues.

"Tim, you are not alone, I know it's hard to put feelings into words, feeling like you have no right to speak up because others have it worse than you but please, don't do this to yourself, don't bear the weight of the world on your shoulders, you'll drown," God knows Dick knows better than anyone, he's been rescuing Bruce from the drowning and talking sense into Batman's mind since he was ten. "Next time, don’t lose your time pacing outside my door, okay? Just knock––we don’t have to talk, we can just sit in silence."

Dick is not expecting Tim to open up and say something, in fact, he would rather make Tim wait for make up his mind on whatever it is troubling him, but when he is about to leave the room Tim stops him.

"Wait, Dick!" Tim calls from his seat, "that’s a very nice offer and thank you for caring about me, but I wasn’t the one pacing outside your room, I didn’t even know that you still spend time there," Tim says.

"Oh... It’s just... there was someone, I swear I heard someone and I thought it was you, maybe it was... Damian?"

"It happened today?" Dick nods, "well, that’s weird because there is no one else home besides you and me, not even Alfred."

"No one else?" Dick’s voice trembles, though it’s probably Gotham’s weather fault since the chilling breeze of October floods the room without warning. Give it to Gotham to give you cloudy and cold weather the same day something supernatural happens to you.

"No, absolutely no one else, just you and me." As Tim confirms what Dick fears it is the truth, the windows closer to them opens on its own accord. Dick flinches but Tim doesn’t, which it’s a bad sign, it means they are certainly not on the same page concerning this issue.

"Do you need something else, Dick?"

For a few seconds, Dick stands there freezing because something is wrong, something is out of natural order but he can’t exactly say what that thing is. Tim stares at him waiting for Dick to say something or leave and he chooses to leave. Dick would have said something about it but his gut is telling him that it’s a bad idea. Tim won’t believe him, Tim is facts and logic, and as much as Dick follows the same thinking, he also knows there is something far beyond what the eyes meet.

* * *

The next time Dick hears footsteps, he is taking a shower. It doesn’t happen at the same place either the same hour, so he doesn’t see any reason to be alerted. No, today is later than last time, the Sun has almost set and he is in the bathroom of the Master bedroom.

It’s not the first time he has been interrupted as he showers. There is the welcoming interruption that comes when Bruce joins him, or the annoying interruptions when his brothers don’t respect his privacy and they enter without permission. And then there is Slade who shamelessly interrupted him once because apparently, the mercenary couldn’t wait for Dick to finish his shower and dress up.

But he’s in the master bedroom’s bathroom, only Bruce comes here as often as Dick does. Besides, if one of his brothers really wants something, they don’t knock, they don’t say "please and thank you," no, they just come and take it.

Dick isn’t proud to say that at that moment he doesn’t even consider his training to regard the strength of the steps or the speed of the pace. Instead, he does the opposite of what he was taught. He assumes the person is Bruce and he lets the feeling of anticipation take over him. No better than a high school girl on the day of her prom, he smiles and opens the steamed glass door to invite Bruce to come in.

The problem is that when Dick sneaks his head to look for Bruce, all he encounters is the definition of absence. There’s no one there, which it makes harder to explain why Dick hears the door to be unlocked and slowly open in his direction. Logic tells him that it's a bad idea to check who is out there, playing tricks on him but his Nightwing's voice tells him to _go for it, live your best life_.

What Dick expects to find are his brothers laughing at him, instead, he finds a medium-sized, white cat staring at him humorously. Even if cats can't speak, Dick knows that the cat is blatantly mocking him. "You think you are very funny, uh?" and the sassy cat smirks at him. Dick would have asked the cat how did it manage to get in here, but the cat doesn't seem common, not even real. "You don't belong to the reign of the living, do you?" The cat meows something that Dick translates as _"no, silly, there's nothing mortal in this fluffy body."_

The eyes of the cat pierce through him, suddenly making him very naked, which he is by the way. "Wait for me? I gotta finish my shower." The cat seems to consider his words for a moment and then it stretches lazily on the bed, which Dick assumes it is its way of saying _"don't make me lose my time, human."_

Sadly, when Dick comes out fresh and dressed, the cat isn't there anymore. "I hope I get to see you again, Cat."

As the night comes and goes, Dick doesn’t think about what happened again. It’s until they are back from patrolling that Dick remembers the incident and he decides to check the video cameras of the master bedroom. If there is a human or tangible part of who is messing with him, then it will appear in the tape.

"What are you doing?" Bruce comes from behind and plants a kiss on his head.

"I..." Dick hates lying to Bruce because it’s easy for him to figure it out when Dick is telling him a lie, either by omission or making it up. It’s an unfair advantage as Bruce was his mentor, the same one who taught him how to deceive others. "I took a shower in the afternoon and I heard something... I just want to know if there was someone or if it was... the wind," Dick plays it as nonchalantly as he can, though by the reassuring hand on his shoulder, Dick knows that Bruce notices the distress on his voice.

"You should rest, sleep deprivation is bad for your senses," Bruce the hypocrite tells him as if Bruce was any better at taking care of himself.

"Really, Bruce? You, of all the people, you are giving me advice––" whatever Dick is going to say is muffled by Bruce kissing him.

"Get a room you two!" Dick hears Jason scream but they ignore him.

"Leave them alone, jerk," Tim defends them, which encourages Dick to care even less and deepen the kiss.

"Father! Dad! Have some self-control," and Damian complaining is what stops them for he is a kid––and Robin––but still just a kid who has no business watching his dads' kissing passionately.

“You could look the other way and leave them alone," Tim insists and sometimes, Dick forgets that Tim spent years spying on them and emotionally invested in a forum dedicated to the ship BatWing.

"Silence, Timbo, I did not request for your opinion," Damian says and Dick foresees the beginning of a fight that will endure for days if Bruce and Dick don’t interrupt them.

"So who is stopping this fight? You or me?"

"You take Damian, I take Tim," Bruce says and walks away before Dick has a chance to share his opinion.

Dick rolls his eyes and mutters _fuck me_ because as much as Dick loves Damian and Tim, the second one is the less complicated between the two of them.

The night ends with Dick and Damian drinking hot chocolate and watching a movie in the kid’s room. Sooner than usual, sleep defeats Dick and he ends up falling asleep, curled up with Damian.

What follows... Dick doesn’t know how real is but it sure feels real. He wakes up but he doesn’t feel awake, though his eyes are open and he is clearly seeing the darkroom. It takes him a few seconds to notice that all he hears is a ringing in his ears––inside his head, the ringing is inside his head! He would move and run with Damian but he can’t speak and he is paralyzed––is it a dream?––and yet, the ringing gets louder and louder until the noise is all he can sense.

Dick doesn’t see anything, it’s nighttime and there is no light in the room, he can’t see but against all logic, he does see––he sees the lady in white, she is beautiful with her moony face, sharp almond eyes, small and dark contrasting with her ghostly olive skin. She’s kind—she won’t hurt him—Dick can tell for her shy smile radiates fading neon light. " _She must be dead—no, wait, she is dead,"_ Dick thinks and she nods, the ghost woman can hear him.

 _"Richard,"_ Dick hears her say but she doesn’t move her pale lips. He wonders if they are communicating through telepathy, which she confirms when she laughs and he hears her again but her face is immobile. " _Don’t you know who I am?"_ Her voice is smoother and she is closer, too close for Dick’s comfort, who wishes he could block her from getting to Damian, but his body isn’t responding, he is in shock.

 _"Won’t you say my name, dear?"_ Dick ignores her and forces his face to look down and see if Damian is alright. Seemingly, the kid is oblivious to what’s happening as he sleeps soundly. _"That life you are living is making you less receptive, dear, you used to be such a ray of sunshine—Oh no, don’t take it in the wrong way, you still have a beautiful smile, but you fake your smile to keep everyone happy—No, I would never blame you, my son, he is a bit difficult, isn’t he?"_ She winks at him graciously as if reading another person’s thoughts and answering to whatever thought crossed his mind is anything but rare.

What she just said shakes Dick out of his shock, finally his vocal cords decide it’s time to talk. "Your son," Dick blinks his eyes twice in confusion and squeezes Damian’s hand for some silent support, "Bruce is your son and if Bruce is your son––you are Martha..."

 _"It took you long enough, young man,"_ she giggles graciously. _"I thought you’d be sharper since my son and you’ve spent so much time playing the detective in the cave."_

"Playing?" Is she kidding? They are experts, they are heroes, they are the best, they are the Original Dynamic Duo. "We are professionals, we are Batman and Nightwing, we––"

What Dick wants to say is interrupted by Martha, whose eyes go wide as she says " _He’s coming..."_ she winks at Dick and with one last look at the door, she disappears into the darkness of the night. The ringing of his ears intensifies and Dick feels his head heavy and foggy, it feels a lot like getting out of an alternate dimension, which permitted him to see her.

Lights on. "Dick?" The tall and broad figure of Bruce waits in the threshold of the door.

"Hey B, I thought you’d be sleeping by now," Dick half-smiles, "is Tim alright?"

Bruce looks thoughtful, unsure of what that question truly means. "He is sleeping."

"That's a win," Dick chuckles and pats an empty spot of the bed, "join us?"

And of course, Bruce does.


End file.
